


Up Until the End

by BitterTongue



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BitterTongue/pseuds/BitterTongue
Summary: Loki may be a god, but that doesn’t mean he’s invincible.





	Up Until the End

**Author's Note:**

> Porting over from my tumblr Cordytriestowrite. Check me out on there :)

Metro-General Hospital was no busier than normal…until that spaceship descended upon New York City. In a bitter twist of luck, Metro-General had experienced a similar invasion four years earlier and thus was somewhat prepared this time. You, however, were not. You had moved to New York only two years ago so unlike your coworkers you had never experienced destruction on such a large scale, not even from a natural distaster.  
It had been manageable at first despite the chaos. You cleaned minor abrasions and took vitals in the waiting room, but when the paramedics wheeled in a man so bloodied and broken with shrapnel impaled in his chest and extremities it became too real. Outside the hospital was a real danger to life as you knew it. It all sent you reeling, made your head spin. You found refuge in a supply closet after helping the paramedics get the man to the operating room. Sobbing into a roll of gauze you took deep breaths and tried to calm down enough to get back out there.  
Through your rasping sobs you heard a familiar sound in the otherwise silent room, a sound almost like lit sparklers on the Fourth of July. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the beginning of a familiar orange ball of light. Despite your familiarity with the sorcery in your panicked state you felt the instinct to move as far away as possible. Pressed up against the far corner of the closet you watched with a childlike wonder as the orange sparks rotated out and the image within the ring displayed the New York Sanctum of Stephen Strange, though the figure coming through was not your brother’s brother-in-law.  
“Wong?”  
You looked at your friend curiously, it was odd to see him here at the hospital. He didn’t look injured, a little dirty maybe, but overall physically well. His face was grave and impassive despite taking in your frazzled state.  
“Where is Christine?” He asked. You wiped the remaining wetness from your face before answering.  
“She’s in the O.R.” you recalled, she had taken the impaled man from you and the paramedics. You had looked upon her calm and authoritative demeanor with awe before being bullied out by the nurses.  
“Then a resident will have to do. Come on (Y/N) we don’t have much time.” He made to go back through the portal but you couldn’t move.  
“Go? No, I have a job to do Wong.” Despite your current whereabouts the statement was true. People were hurt, they needed help, and you had trained years for this. Hell, the whole reason you moved to New York was to be an every day hero while the superheroes did their thing and saved the city. You couldn’t abandon your dream now that it was real.  
“If you don’t come with me he will die.” There was no pleading in Wong’s voice. This wasn’t said out of desperation, simply as fact. It was absolute. You felt as if you had stepped through an icy waterfall. Could you knowingly let someone die when you had been asked to save them? Was going for this one man worth more than every patient in this hospital? But what if he was like the man you just took to the O.R., imbedded with shrapnel and bleeding out fast? Wong had to say your name again for you to come back to reality and to the limited time you had.  
You removed yourself from the corner and grabbed a paramedic’s bag off the bottom shelf hoping it would be enough for whatever you were walking into. When you looked over Wong was already through the portal. With purpose you crossed through.  
-  
The first thing you noticed was the hole going through the sanctum’s staircase, the second thing was the unmoving dark haired man a few feet away. You rushed over to him, getting on your knees and running your eyes over visible injuries.  
His skin was pale where it wasn’t bruised and the bruising was primarily around his neck. Was he strangled? You lifted one eyelid and checked his bloodshot eyes for a response. It dilated, a good sign. His hands were cut and scraped but nothing that would need stitches. Through his odd clothing you did not see rips or holes leading to open wounds. It all seemed manageable until you put your fingers to the pulse and his wrist and counted.  
“He’s barely holding on. Help me move him.” You turned to Wong behind you and when he didn’t do anything but move his hands you turned around and found the body gone.  
“He’s in your room.” He smiled softly at you. The first smile you had seen since that ship touched down. Your shoulders eased away from your ears reflexively and you smiled back.  
“I have to go check on the others.” He began moving his arms, creating another portal. You couldn’t see where he was going from this angle.  
“Where is Stephen?” You asked curiously, wondering for the first time why Wong came to find Christine when Strange could have taken care of the man.  
“Gone. Fighting. Stay here and don’t leave until someone comes back for you. Dont let him leave either.” He stepped through the portal and it closed in on itself, leaving you alone in the partially destroyed foyer. You rushed around to the back staircase, wondering what happened to the main steps.  
-  
The man lay on top of your bed, unaffected by his magical move. Of course the first man in your bed since your residency began was a near death patient you mused with self pity. Once at his side you gingerly tested his neck, arms, and legs for internal breaks that would worsen as you moved him. You needed to get him out of his tough leather clothing but didnt want to exacerbate his injuries. Satisfied moving him wouldnt make things worse, you began pulling off the strange clothes.  
Bitterly again you thought about the lack of non-work related stripping your bedroom was being deprived of. It didnt help you were staying with Stephen, whose sister married your brother a few years ago, it was close enough to consider him family. It also didnt help Stephen Strange was a sorcerer and you found it hard to bring anyone to the sanctum and explain your odd living situation. Just the thought of trying to have a normal life right now made you want to laugh out loud.  
His chest was exposed. Absently you traced the large bruises decorating his ribs. They were older and already fading but they were large and you wondered if he went to a doctor to check for internal bleeding while they were fresh. Your eyes traveled down to his pants, they really should come off too. But being outside of the hospital, outside of that clean and professional setting, taking his pants of felt more perverse than clinical. You cleared your throat and shook your head clear. With a false confidence you slid his pants down his hips and promptly squeaked; no underwear. You moved your sheet to cover him and continued removing his pants. You felt your whole head heat with shame realizing you didnt take off his shoes first.  
You began to run through the basics; blood pressure, heart rate, temperature (must be broken, says he’s way below a regulated body temp), and dressing minor cuts and abrasions. Out of the hospital you couldn’t do much else, you decided once someone came home you would take him in for an x-ray at least.  
He looked better already! You pulled your reading chair to your bedside and pulled out your phone, setting alarms every hour to check vitals. You also texted Christine, knowing she wouldn’t get the text until all this mess was over, but you hoped by explaining what happened to someone who knew about sorcery she would have your back when you ultimately got fired.  
-  
Having one patient was rather boring. Usually you would rush between fifteen to fifty patients in a twelve hour shift. There was rarely any downtime and you didn’t realize until now how preferable that was to sitting at the bedside of a handsome, naked, unconscious man in an entirely impersonal manner.  
You turned on the tv but kept it muted in consideration for your sleeping patient. News coverage was showing a shakey camera clip of the daunting ship growing smaller and smaller as it left the atmosphere. Looks like it was over. All that was left to do was clean up the city and get back to normal. So why were you still alone in the house? Where were Strange and Wong?  
-  
You woke up yet again at the sound of your hourly alarm. Unfurling yourself from the chair you rose to check your patient’s vitals. They had been steady, which was a good sign. He was looking better, his skin holding a little more color and his neck no longer held a black, purplish hue. You moved to place your fingers to the pulse of his wrist and almost jumped out of your skin when his grip closed around your approaching hand. Chest heaving you brought your free hand to clutch your thumping heart.  
His eyes were open and no longer bloodshot, but wild and afraid. He searched the room without really looking. His grip was getting tighter and you pulled futility. He was impossibly strong and you chalked it up to the adrenaline of waking up after his accident. You pulled harder and though he did not relent his eyes did finally take you in.  
“Wha-” he wheezed. His voice was weak. You looked at the bruises on his neck, they had faded yes but the outcome remained.  
“If you let go of me I can get you water.” You said clearly, slowly, and sternly. It was one of the first things you learned at Metro-General, people responded to that tone over the one you had before your residency, which was one of soft kindness and full of requests rather than demands. It worked even now, your hand was released and blood flowed eagerly back to your fingertips.  
You jogged downstairs and pulled a water bottle from the fridge before jogging back up. You were gone for less than two minutes. As you turned the corner you saw the man moving to sit up, managing to swing his legs over the side of your bed before losing energy. You hastily reached him and pushed him back down. He hissed as the cold bottle was pressed to his chest along with your hands.  
“Lay down now. You’re in no condition to move.” You pushed again, putting more of your weight into moving him than you anticipated, when he complied the force you were putting on the previously immovable object overpowered your balance and sent you down with him.  
It took all your core strength to get off him without putting needless weight on his chest. He still groaned. You stepped back and kept your burning face down under the guise of uncapping the water.  
-  
The two of you sat in silence, eyes glued to the no longer muted television. With the threat gone news outlets were replaying clips of the touchdown and takeoff, the destruction, and eyewitness accounts. Your eyes pulled away from the new broadcast of Metro-General and the anchor standing outside. You gazed upon the reason you were not in the building that was now being reported as at capacity. He still couldn’t really speak and you were mostly fine with that, except now that he was awake you had so many questions; like what happened to him, how he got into the sanctum, and who he was. All he had done since gaining his senses was stare dejectedly and desperately at the television.  
You were struck with an idea to get your questions answered as well as distract both of you from the solemn broadcast. You went to your desk and began pulling open drawers, knowing you had put the supplies somewhere. You turned back to find him looking curiously at you and you felt triumph bloom in your chest at gabbing his attention. You held up the notebook and pen you had procured for him to see.  
His expression remained the same as you dropped the notebook bashfully onto his naked lap, thankfully covered by your bedsheets.  
“I have some questions and seeing as you can’t really speak I was hoping you wouldn’t mind…” you trailed off, feeling foolish now that you were explaining it. You didnt need to ask him anything in order to treat him, you were just trying to satisfy a need for answers. It was selfish really, not what a doctor would do at all.  
His agreeing nod surprised you and he picked up the pen, holding it over the paper readily.  
“So…” you mused, running through the questions you had swimming in your head. You settled on a basic query. “What is your name?”  
He took a moment before putting the pen to paper.  
Loki Odinson, of Asgard  
You blinked in bewilderment, you were aware of Asgard of course, especially after humanity found out the Norse gods were real, but you didnt think you would ever meet one. Lost in your own thoughts you didn’t recognize Loki had a question of his own underneath.  
Who are you?  
“Oh, sorry, yes. I’m (Y/N). I’m a resident at Metro-General though we’re not there. We are actually in The Sanctum, the one in New York that is. I figured you already know that since you were found here. How did you end up here anyway?”  
Loki’s eyebrows were raised, his mouth parted and slack. You bit your lip, cursing yourself for blabbering so much. It had been almost 12 hours of silence and you couldn’t contain your cathartic ranting.  
I need to find my brother Thor  
He had left your question unanswered. It stung more than you thought it would. Did he not realize you had spent half a day by his side, risking you job and the lives of others because of him? You concluded he probably had no care for your sacrifices, he was a god after all. What would he care to understand of your mortal life.  
He shook the paper, looking annoyed at your lack of attention.  
“I don’t know where Thor is. Or any of the Avengers. I dont even know where Stephen is!”  
The sorcerer? He penned. You nodded.  
He is insufferable  
The laugh tumbled out from your lips before you could think to contain it. He smiled along with you, settling comfortably into the mattress to continue writing exactly how he felt about Dr. Strange.  
-  
How long has it been?  
You checked your watch for him through bleary eyes.  
“Nineteen hours.” You sighed, knowing you sounded pouty. You had been awake for over twenty four hours now with nineteen of them sitting next to your own bed. It made you wistful for the comfortable blanket and soft pillows, all currently being used by Loki.  
You should sleep  
You wholeheartedly agreed with the neat handwriting, but knew the man who wrote those words had an ulterior motive. He had already tried to leave the bed multiple times while you went to the bathroom or fetched him water. Once he had gotten far enough to begin pulling on his pants and while you didnt want to beg him to remain naked you knew he would leave once he was dressed even if his strength had not returned. You compromised by providing a pair of Stephen’s pajama pants, hoping that by replacing the armor for comfort he would stay and rest.  
He pulled the paper back to face him and began writing again. He was rather talkative for someone who couldn’t speak. You had enjoyed the conversation and company created since finding your notebook. Loki was witty and clever and so easily made you laugh and blush during the last few hours.  
Midgardians are weak and need to rest frequently  
“So do you!” You shot back, offended by the insinuation that you were weak. You ignored the groggy feeling pulling your eyelids down.  
Let us sleep together then  
Reading that definitely roused you from any fatigue you were feeling. Was he aware of the implications of his statement? Judging by the growing smirk, he absolutely did. Satisfied he caught you embarrassed he moved to the far side of the bed.  
The space he left did look heavenly after so many hours in your reading chair. You adjusted your bottom on the seat and found no comfortable spot. You imagined throwing the chair out of your room and into the ravine where the main staircase used to rise.  
But still, you would be knowingly and willingly getting in bed with the wrong person in so many ways. First of all he was a god, and without rudely confirming you were pretty sure he was the same god who tried to take over the world with the last invasion. He was a stranger too, and falling into bed with strangers even if it was only to sleep comfortably, was just not in your nature. But most importantly he was your patient! You wouldn’t, and shouldn’t, ever take advantage of your position as a doctor (or in this case resident) to get closer to your patients. If you laid down next to him you would be dealing your moral fate as a doctor.  
But it did look so inviting…  
“Please” came a broken, deep croak. Any reservations you had about accepting his offer evaporated at the sound. He grimaced and rubbed his throat slowly. He had caused himself distress just to get you to take care of yourself. You stood so fast your vision blurred and left you blindly toeing off your shoes. With a audible sigh you let yourself sink onto the mattress and felt immediate satisfaction.  
For a moment you forgot Loki was even there next to you. You wriggled and sank further into the plush surface, fluffed the pillow beneath your head, and pulled your soft blanket to nestle under your chin.  
You would have fallen asleep instantly if a heavy weight didn’t slither its way around your waist. It set your nerves alight, and not all of them screaming out in alarm. You kept your eyes closed, hoping sleep would welcome you into its embrace again. The arm only gripped you harder and pulled you closer into Loki’s side. He sure was a snuggler. He finally settled down with a final sigh after burying his face into your hair.  
“Thank you” he whispered. And you knew it hurt to say. You fell asleep easily after that.  
-  
You awoke more well rested than you had in years and you savored the calm that was wrapped around you as securely as Loki’s arm. You rolled over lazily to face him, figuring you would indulge yourself with some further cuddling. As your eyes traveled up his naked torso and to his chiseled jaw you recognized a playful smirk indicating Loki was awake and very aware of your ogling.  
“Thank you,” you started, dragging attention away from his amusement, “For staying.”  
You were pleasantly surprised he was still here, expecting him to have run off while you were sleeping. His smirk returned, though no longer at your expense, as he brushed his hand against your temple, smoothing your hair back gently.  
“You’re welcome.” He said, his voice clear and strong. You smiled through an airy laugh, amazed at his recovery. You reached for the hand on your head, putting your fingers to the pulse on his wrist, just to check. The god rolled his eyes, letting you check his heart rate for a few moments before grabbing your hand and bringing your joined hands between you on the bed, fingers intertwined.  
You watched his thumb rub the back of your hand and reveled in the cool and rough skin. You let yourself slip into a fantasy. One where this could be your mornings before starting your shift at Metro-General. Maybe it wouldn’t be weird to have Loki over, maybe even go on a date…  
The warm blanket of calm was beginning to lift and the weight of the world taking its place. Once you go up from the bed the fantasy would be just that, a fantasy. You sighed softly looking into Loki’s eyes as you squeeze his hand goodbye - or at least tried to. You couldn’t make your hand close around his.  
“Loki?” You cried faintly, not believing what you were seeing. His eye line followed yours. Where your hands were once joined there was only Loki’s and surrounding it a weightless, grey ash.  
“No,” he cried, “no, no, no.” But with every part of you he grasped desperately for he watched it escape between his fingers as nothing more than floating dust until he was alone, once more defeated.


End file.
